


Angel, Heal Thyself

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode 7x01, Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-28
Updated: 2011-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:10:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel turns up in Sam and Dean’s motel room, with a very surprising problem on his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel, Heal Thyself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scec4evr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=scec4evr).



> written for the Fall Fandom Free for all, hosted by oxoniensis. This was written for scec4evr’s prompt of [de-aged Castiel with some caretaker!Sam&Dean, maybe some Bobby.](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/489753.html?thread=30652697#t30654233)  
> This takes place after the Supernatural episode 7x01, but before 7x02. As a consequence, this story is severely AU, and contains spoilers for 7x01 for those who have yet to see that episode.
> 
>  
> 
> [   
> ](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/489753.html)

The sun shone down upon Dean’s head, threatening to burn his scalp while he worked. His bunched fists worked at the wax he was smearing onto the Impala’s already gleaming surface, recently restored back to her former glory after being tipped onto her roof by a swarming horde of black demon-smoke. Dean hummed along to the radio while he worked, a little off-key, yet still happily. He found the gentle motions of wax sliding onto black metal relaxing, and the time spent with his car always soothed him. After all, he’d built her from the ground up too many times to count anymore since he’d inherited her from his dad, many years previously.

He squinted into the sun-filled sky, and saw that no clouds threatened rain. It wouldn’t hurt for him to stay outside with his car a little longer, spreading out the task of cleaning her for as long as he possibly could. He was never going to get that chance, however. Shortly after he’d started working upon the already gleaming chrome work, a loud shout filtered through the open motel door, Sam’s voice clearly surprised by something unseen and so, as yet, unknown.

Dean immediately bolted to his feet, eyes wide, abandoning his chamois upon the dusty ground before he sprinted inside. He expected his brother’s large frame to be sprawled upon the floor, for Sam to be in some kind of pain-filled trouble at the hands of some monster, yet all he saw was his brother kneeling down in the middle of the room. Sam appeared to be now talking quietly to someone or something Dean couldn’t immediately see, making soothing motions with both large hands outspread.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, creeping forward to see what or who Sam was talking to.

He expected, knowing his brother as well as he did, to find Sam soothing a puppy or something, yet Dean was faced, instead, with a small boy, draped in Castiel’s clothing. The by now familiar tan coat drooped from too small shoulders and the ridiculously wonky tie was hanging even looser around the boy’s neck. His pants were practically upon the floor, leather belt not having enough purchase on slender hips anymore.

The small boy, no more than seven years old, looked up at Dean then, familiar wide blue eyes guileless now and innocent, shock of dark hair wild and mussed over thin, pale cheeks. Gone was the stubble of his elder self, but the child in the room was unmistakably that of Castiel’s vessel, albeit twenty years younger than previously.

“Cas?” Dean asked, hesitantly, wondering what the hell had happened to the angel this time.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, small voice still carrying the gruffness of the angel behind the human fragility of the boy’s body. “Dean? I’m sorry.”

“What the hell happened to you, dude?” Dean asked, as he knelt beside Sam on the floor to stare into Castiel‘s small face.

The angel was staring at Dean with sorrowful puppy eyes, small mouth pushed out into a little pout.

“That’s what I was just trying to find out. Cas just kinda popped in here with a hell of crash and a clatter just now,” Sam said, throwing a concerned look from Castiel to Dean. “He’s a kid, Dean.”

“Yeah, well done, Sherlock. I didn’t notice that,” Dean said, with a snort of derision. “The loss of height and age didn’t tip me off to that fact, at all.”

“Dean,” Sam said, with a scowl of disgust at his brother’s attitude.

Dean shrugged at him, wordlessly admonishing his brother for stating the blatantly obvious. Castiel was watching the silent exchange with wide eyes, full mouth parted now as he listened to them. Slowly, slowly, Castiel’s head tilted to the side, intense blue gaze fixing upon Dean’s face, the one bright spot in the room for the angel. Castiel reached out to Dean with both small and slender arms, clearly asking for a hug. Dean stared at him, uncomprehending, until Castiel shook his arms again, a plaintive look in his eyes and Sam elbowed Dean quite viciously.

“Give him a hug, Dean,” Sam said, sharply, as he elbowed him again.

“Dude,” Dean snapped, as he pushed his brother away irritably.

He turned back to Castiel, before he asked - “Is that it? D’you want a hug?”

“Please, Dean,” Castiel said, with a slow, single dip of his head in the affirmative.

Dean sighed and reached forward, enclosing Castiel’s smaller body in his arms, a frown working between the elder Winchester’s brows at the slender little body pressing against him. Castiel seemed too small, too fragile to be the angel he’d known, and definitely far too frail to have been the self-proclaimed God of even more recent times. Castiel rested his cheek against Dean’s shoulder, warm breath ghosting against the skin of the hunter’s neck. His hands, smaller now, pressed against the space in between Dean’s shoulderblades and he sighed, small chest rising and falling against Dean’s own.

“They’re gone,” Castiel said, quietly.

“Who’s gone?” Dean asked, even though he had an inkling as to what the angel was referring to.

“Leviathan. They left,” Castiel said, rearing away just far enough to stare directly into Dean’s eyes.

He rested one small hand upon Dean’s cheek and tried to smile.

“They’re gone. I’m not in pain any more,” he said.

“That’s ... that’s good, but dude, you’re a kid, or at least your body’s a kid,” Dean pointed out, gently, resisting the urge to ruffle Castiel’s hair affectionately.

Despite his prior feelings towards Castiel and the way he’d been acting, Dean still felt a twinge of sympathy for the de-aged body Castiel was now inhabiting, as though with the loss of power, the angel had lost some of his body mass too. He doubted that Castiel’s true age, his angel age, had been affected very much. He thought it was more the human vessel he rode in on that had been tampered with. He sighed and tightened his hold on Castiel a little bit, gratified when the angel allowed the hug.

“Perhaps the Leviathan took too much away from him when they left,” Sam said, quietly, as he watched Dean staring at Castiel, trying to understand what was going on.

Castiel nodded, but didn’t say anything, just stared at Sam dolefully, before turning the same big-eyed gaze upon Dean. Dean sighed again, and sat back upon his butt, splaying his legs around where Castiel stood, feet puddled in his own too-large black pants. Castiel took that as an invitation and settled himself upon Dean’s lap, large shirt hanging over his legs to hide them from view. He draped one arm about Dean’s neck and rested his cheek upon Dean’s shoulder again.

Surprisingly, he yawned, eyelids drooping now and lips pushing out into a weary pout. His eyelashes looked too dark against his skin, deathly white as though too much had been taken from his body and his Grace. Dean held him against his body, supporting his much lesser weight while shooting a helpless look towards Sam. Even though Dean didn’t say a word, the plea for help and for guidance was evident enough. Even though Dean had coped with looking after a baby shapeshifter all those months ago, he wasn’t entirely certain as to whether he could even cope with an angel trapped inside a child’s body or even the ramifications of that, if any. Who knew what a once powerful angel-god hybrid could do upon the de-aged body of a human vessel?

Sam was trying to hide a smile however, dimples pooling in his cheeks as he stared at the surprisingly domestic scene of Dean cradling a boy in his arms. Dean caught the smile and glared righteous fire over the top of Castiel’s messy-haired head. He raised one hand, pointing an accusing finger at the younger hunter and before he could deliver a warning, Sam had whipped out his phone and taken a photo of him, Dean staring hell fire while protectively cradling Castiel against him.

“You have to admit he’s kinda cute,” Sam said, yanking his phone away from Dean‘s grasping hand before the elder Winchester could snatch it away and remove the evidence of his domesticity. “Even taking into consideration his latest escapades as God.”

“Sssshhhh,” Dean hissed, as Castiel stirred against him and blew damp yawns against the skin of his neck again.

Sam raised his hands, cell-phone still cradled in the palm of one large hand. He was still laughing at Dean, dimples pushed deep in both cheeks, further intensifying Dean’s glare.

“Shut the hell up, Sam,” Dean said, soothing Castiel as the angel shifted.

“What? It’s funny, Dean,” Sam protested, blandly. “To think Cas went from God to this.”

He gestured towards Castiel’s small body with a futile gesture, sudden realization sinking in as he realized that Castiel may never return to his former power.

“Just how much power does he pack now? He said the Leviathan had gone,” Sam asked, suddenly.

“Dude, don’t you think I’ve been asking myself that very question ever since he showed up like this?” Dean hissed, breath ruffling Castiel’s hair, sending some of the strands tickling against his own skin. “He’s a kid, Sammy. I don’t know if even he realizes how much power he’s got.”

“He had enough to transport himself to us,” Sam pointed out.

“True. Yeah, that’s the thing about that, Why come to us? Given his recent track record, he’s hardly entrusted us with freaking anything,” Dean hissed.

“Not lately he hasn’t,” Sam conceded. “Perhaps we’re the last port in the storm for him now. He did apologize to you, right before those souls went into Purgatory.”

Dean remembered that, thoughts of the bright light that flooded the room invading his mind, and of how the souls had arched pulsating from Castiel’s body and into the whirling portal of Purgatory. He’d remembered the blood stained fragile form of Castiel, both before and after that had happened, and the maniacal way that Castiel had acted afterwards, juiced up by the Leviathan whirling around in his body and through his Grace.

Castiel had disappeared sometime after that, leaving Dean alone with Bobby in the same room that they’d been asked to bow before their new God. Between them they’d located Sam, passed out and unconscious and babbling something about Lucifer under his breath. Sam had been insensate for days after that, finally rising as though nothing had ever happened. Dean had tried asking his brother about what had happened, yet Sam had disclaimed everything, saying that he no longer remembered. Dean had known at the time that Sam was lying, and still, hadn’t brought up the subject again. He wouldn’t now, with Castiel leaning against him, needing his help.

“We need to get to Bobby’s,” Dean decided, knowing that just as he and Sam were to Castiel, so was Bobby their port in the storm whenever they needed help. “We can’t leave him like this.”

He gestured to Castiel, who merely shifted, sleepily, in Dean’s arms but did not relinquish his hold upon him. Sam nodded, eyes still resting upon the fragile form of the boy Castiel. Castiel’s face was lax in sleep, lips parted to emit gusts of breath, small hand fisted in Dean’s shirt as though the hunter was akin to a giant, angelic comfort blanket. Dean’s hands curled protectively around Castiel’s body in turn, shielding him from the world and even Sam. It seemed that whatever differences that had lain between the couple in previous months were temporarily forgotten, put on hold until the current crisis was solved and dealt with.

“First we need to get Castiel some clothes,” Sam observed, as he gestured towards the adult clothing formerly worn by and more suited to the adult form of Jimmy Novak. “We can’t let him walk around like that.”

Dean grunted but otherwise didn’t say a word.

~*~*~*~

Castiel didn’t seem to want Dean to leave his side, when the elder hunter tried to exit the Impala and head towards the clothing store in town. Dean had tried to extricate himself from Castiel’s surprisingly powerful grip, but the angel-powered boy was having none of it. Dean had then cast a helpless glance to Sam, who’d sighed and offered to go in Dean’s place. Dean had ordered Sam to get something sensible for Castiel, and no dresses, pink, frilly or otherwise. Sam had pointedly ignored the request.

Dean had waited impatiently for Sam’s return, fingers and thumbs tapping relentlessly against the steering wheel of the Impala, while Castiel sat calmly in the back seat, large blue eyes staring thoughtfully out of the window beside him. Every now and again, Dean would check the rear view mirror, green eyes reluctant to show the concern he felt over the small boy in the back, only to be met with a blue eyed gaze so far more intimately wise and ancient than expected.

“You alright, there, Cas?” Dean asked, after about fifteen minutes of waiting.

“Yes, thank you, Dean,” Castiel replied, as polite as he’d been before the whole Godstiel debacle.

Dean harrumphed and went back to tapping out an arrhythmic tattoo against the steering wheel.

“I don’t miss it, you know,” Castiel said, suddenly.

“What?” Dean asked, roughly, jerked out of his thoughts by the sudden statement.

“Being God. It was good while it lasted, and I did what needed to be done, but the pain in the end was too much,” Castiel said, quietly. “Too much responsibility and fire.”

“Fire?” Dean asked, half turning round where he sat to stare at the angel boy.

“You saw the state of my vessel before the souls left me,” Castiel said. “It wasn’t enough to contain me.”

Dean didn’t like the fact that Jimmy was now being referred to as an “it,” yet he remained wisely silent. He still didn’t know how much power Castiel packed in one little hand and he didn’t want to test that theory out any time soon.

Castiel seemed content to remain silent after that, returning his knowledgeable gaze out of the window. It was at times like that that Dean could almost be fooled into thinking that Castiel was just like any other ordinary boy, yet he knew it was sheer folly to think that.

Despite Castiel still retaining the knowledge of what exactly had happened to him, he seemed to be lacking in other areas, namely that of returning his vessel back to his right size and age again. Both Sam and Dean had asked him when Castiel had awoken in Dean’s arms again, all to no avail. Castiel had turned innocent blue eyes onto Dean and shook his head, slender shoulders rising and falling in a tiny little shrug. Dean had sighed but hadn’t pushed the matter any further. It was obvious to him as it was to Sam that Castiel truly didn’t know. As Dean had said to Sam afterwards, in a quiet aside to his brother when Castiel had been examining himself in the mirror, that surely the angel would have sorted himself out by now if he’d known how to do so. He usually had in the past, when he’d wanted to, that was.

Sam spared Dean further thought by returning to the car, hands laden with a few bags filled with clothing. The younger Winchester looked slightly worn; he’d been beset by eager moms trying to help him out while in the store, all of whom had grated on his nerves instead of truly helping. He was only grateful that he’d left with his sanity and every limb intact, as well as the goods required.

“What’s up?” Dean asked, as Sam settled himself wearily upon the passenger side seat.

“Over eager sales assistants and cooing moms tried to mind-rape me,” Sam mumbled into a groan.

“Not in front of the kid,” Dean snapped, jerking one hand over his shoulder at the now staring Castiel.

“He’s not a kid, Dean, he just looks like one,” Sam mumbled.

“Okay, no rape talk in front of the angel kid,” Dean snapped back.

“And who is prolonging the current conversation longer than necessary, Dean?” Sam retorted, staring at his brother pointedly.

“Shut up. So not cool,” Dean replied, when he found he had no answer for Sam’s rhetoric. “Anyway, what happened? Without the r word, please. We have innocents in here.”

“Well, I know you’re not referring to yourself, there, Dean,” Sam snorted, dryly. “And I just told the assistant I was shopping for my nephew.”

Dean stared at Sam for a moment, before he exploded.

“Wait that means I’m Cas’ dad, you know,” Dean said.

“I think you’d make a great Father, Dean,” Castiel chose that moment to chip in.

“Yeah, I know your feelings about your Father, Cas,” Dean shot back.

“Dean,” Sam said. “He’s trying to be nice. At least have the good grace to say thanks.”

“Thanks,” Dean bit out, sharply, without even looking at Castiel.

The de-aged angel chose to remain silent again, settling back upon the seat, small hands clasped studiously upon his knees. Just because he was silent, didn’t mean that he wasn’t watching, Dean found Castiel’s gaze was just as intense as it was in his more adult form and the sensations caused shivers to course through his body. He still half expected Castiel to smite him, or tell him to bow down or something, yet he knew, peripherally, that Castiel was now long past that. With the departure of the souls and now the Leviathan, it seemed, in a way, that Castiel had redeemed himself, at least in the eyes of Dean himself.

“You are welcome, Dean,” Castiel replied, graciously.

He returned to staring out the window, even as Dean irritably grabbed the bags from Sam’s lap and started rifling through them. To his surprise, Sam’s choices hadn’t been all that bad, probably because he was relying on the greater wisdom of store assistants and helpful moms instead of his own bad judgement. The clothes were perfect for any little boy; a black cowboy style shirt, black jeans and a small denim jacket. There was even a little t shirt denoting the legend - “Little Angel.” Sam smirked at the expression upon Dean’s face when the elder Winchester saw that one.

Dean ignored the t shirt for that moment; instead he tossed the cowboy shirt and jeans into the back, followed by a package of boxers and sneakers. Dean was glad that Sam hadn’t bought a tiny pair of cowboy boots as well. Despite the thought of Castiel dressed as a cowboy would have been a cute image, Dean would still have been forced to kill Sam for even that small digression, little angel t shirts notwithstanding.

“Put those on,” he barked over his shoulder at the curious Castiel.

“Here?” Castiel replied, a little worriedly.

“He’s right, Dean. Too many people about and he needs to get naked,” Sam agreed.

“Fine. Come on, Cas, I’ll take you to the nearest restroom,” Dean groused, slamming out if the Impala and plucking Castiel out of the back seat.

Despite the fact that Castiel could still technically walk, he’d previously found it difficult given the large state of his former clothing. Dean had been forced to carry him whenever they were outside, as Castiel had blatantly refused to let Sam even touch him for long enough. Neither Winchester brother knew why that was.

Dean found a restroom in a nearby diner, carefully standing guard outside a cubicle, with the door partially open, while Castiel struggled to manually dress himself. Dean wondered then just how much juice Castiel had lost if he couldn’t even zap himself into a new set of clothing. Castiel’s small fingers fumbled over the buttons on his shirt. Sighing, Dean knelt in front of him, and did the buttons for Castiel, straightening the new, still starchy material down flat on the little angel’s narrow chest. Castiel watched him with large, liquidly trusting eyes and Dean had to force himself not to smile at him.

“You good, now?” he asked, gruffly, despite the fact that a smile had formed anyway on his lips.

“Yes, thank you,” Castiel replied, as he held out his hand for Dean to take.

Dean sighed and grabbed Castiel’s little fingers and led him from the rest room, chatting quietly to him as he went. He carried Castiel’s former clothing in the bag where his new clothes had been pulled from, as Dean figured that the angel would need them again in the future, or so Dean hoped. Much as Castiel was cute in this form, Dean didn’t relish the idea of looking after him while he grew up and all that little boys entailed.

“D’you wanna grab something to eat?” Dean asked, voice distracted as he stared up at the diner’s menu, perusing it hungrily. “Burger, perhaps?”

He looked down at Castiel, catching sight of the diminutive angel's dark haired head nodding up at him. It seemed odder than ever now to Dean just how small Castiel was in this form. Dean could clearly see how the angel’s hair fanned out across his head now, instead of almost being able to meet his intense gaze. In his adult form, Castiel, or rather Jimmy, had been a few inches shorter than he was; now he was considerably shorter. In a way, it reminded Dean of when Sam was a small boy, of how he’d looked after and out for his little brother. He smiled sadly when Castiel caught his gaze, tilting his head up at him in a questioning manner.

“I’ll look after you, kid,” Dean said, roughly in response. “We’ll work this out somehow.”

“I know. This is why I came to you,” Castiel replied, with a smile.

“You should have done that before,” Dean said, half-heartedly, as he sidled into the queue to place his order.

“You should have let me. You did push me away,” Castiel countered. “I was only trying to do the right thing for everyone.”

“Yeah, I heard that one, someplace before,” Dean murmured, before falling silent.

Neither spoke again, until it was time for Dean to be served. He ordered three burgers, the greasiest on the menu, grinning over the fact that Sam would no doubt have a coronary over the fact that he hadn’t been brought a salad. The cashier fussed over Castiel, proclaiming him to be the sweetest little boy ever in his cowboy costume, to which Dean had proudly, albeit reluctantly, said that he was his son. Castiel had smiled up at him at that, to which Dean had winked back.

As expected, Sam threw a fit when he saw the greasy paper wrapped burger Dean gave him in the car, and flat out refused to even eat it. Castiel had sighed, small hand snaking forward to pluck the seemingly offensive item from Sam’s hand and split the burger into two. He handed one half to Dean before ripping hungrily into his own half greedily. Dean and Sam exchanged a glance yet said nothing.

They remained silent, while they ate, before heading on their way to Bobby's.

~*~*~*~

“What the hell have you two idjit boys gone and done to Cas now?” Bobby asked, as he stared down at Castiel, who stared up at him with awkward feet and large eyes.

“They didn’t do anything. It was Leviathan,” Castiel replied, before either Sam or Dean could. “They drained me too much and turned me into this.”

He gestured down at himself and shrugged as though it were only a temporary measure. Perhaps, in the infinitely long run of an angel’s lifespan, it really was a temporary measure. Dean found himself wondering, not for the first time, just how old Castiel really was. He’d long since realized that he was probably ancient, although not quite so worldly wise, previously as the other angels. It was then that he started getting the inkling whether Castiel really had been doing the right thing all along. Considering the outright douche-baggery on display by the likes of Raphael, Uriel, Zachariah et al, Castiel, although nerdy, seemed less of a dick than even them, even in his Godstiel phase.

“Dean,” Bobby said, sharply, in the tone of voice that indicated that he’d been talking for some time with no response from the elder hunter. “Care to join the conversation any time this century or you gonna just stand there cluttering up my hallway?”

“What did ya say?” Dean asked, absently, as he trailed further into the house after the other three, settling his long frame upon a couch and smiling when Castiel immediately settled beside him.

“I suggest you get reading,” Bobby said. “I still don’t know anything worth a damn about angels, especially ones who are trapped inside a de-aged vessel, so get to it, boy.”

Dean grimaced and opened the book that Sam plonked unceremoniously upon his lap, before he began to read.

~*~*~*~

Dean woke later that night, book still open upon the page he’d last been reading. Bobby’s house was mostly in darkness, with both Bobby and Sam having long since retreated to bedrooms upstairs. Castiel had remained with Dean and was, even now, huffing sleeping breaths beside him, head resting heavily upon Dean’s chest. Again, the little angel’s fist was bunched into Dean’s shirt, fingers flexing slightly as though in remembered pain. Dean patted Castiel’s hand awkwardly, but said nothing to soothe him, feeling too awkward and not knowing what to say anyway.

He rested his head back upon the back of the couch, drifting back into sleep again, before jerking awake when he felt Castiel jerk and shift beside him. The angel suddenly felt infinitely heavier, body slightly a little longer against Dean, hand a little larger where it clutched his shirt. Dean cast a disbelieving glance down at the top of Castiel’s head, now several inches closer to his own. It seemed as though the angel had achieved some kind of a growth spurt while he was asleep.

Dean leant away even further, eyes travelling over Castiel’s body, noticing that the angel had, indeed, grown larger, so much so, that his clothes, once loose, were now a little more form-fitting than before. The hunter thought that if he continued at his current pace, then they would have to buy him some new clothing within a few days.

~*~*~*~

Castiel had grown a little more by the morning, surprising both Sam and Bobby when they walked into the kitchen the following morning. Castiel, head coming up to just below the level of Dean’s nipples previously, had now gained several inches in height, body lengthening to somewhere near to Dean’s armpit now. By the looks of Castiel’s face, he’d also gained a few years in age, too, quickly speeding towards his vessel’s age of his mid-thirties. Dean was busy making fried eggs and bacon for everyone when they arrived, tossing odd scraps of egg Castiel’s way while the angel waited beside him patiently.

“What the hell happened to Cas?” Bobby asked, attracting the egg-eating angel’s attention.

“Hmm? He grew in the night,” Dean muttered.

“Yeah, we can see that, Dean. I think what Bobby means is - why?” Sam asked, dryly, as he settled himself wearily down at the kitchen table.

His hazel gaze flickered over the angel’s slightly larger frame, noting how the jeans were a little more snug around the angel’s waist. His eyes still looked too large in his head as Castiel stared back, fingers pushing scraps of bacon into his mouth now.

“I think it’s the food,” Dean threw over his shoulder. “And sleep. They’re helping to regenerate Castiel’s body back to where it should be before - all this happened.”

He gestured uselessly with one hand at Castiel’s new diminutive stature, provoking Sam to say - “It’s a case of angel, heal thyself, right?”

“Right,” Dean replied.

“You sure you’re not projecting with the food and the sleep, boy?” Bobby asked Dean, with a disbelieving snort. “Next you’ll be saying it’s porn on the internet making him grow.”

“I don’t even wanna go there, Bobby,” Dean said, pointing his egg spattered spatula at the elder hunter provokingly. “He’s a child.”

“Technically, no, he’s not, but never mind,” Sam said, quietly.

Dean didn’t take any notice of his brother’s words; instead he continued flipping the bacon in his pan, until the meat was thoroughly cooked. He served the meal up onto four plates, and Sam couldn’t help but notice how both Dean and Castiel managed to get the lion’s share of the food.

After the food had been eaten and the plates had been cleared away, Sam left to buy more clothes for Castiel. He hadn’t expected the angel’s body to grow so rapidly and so, because of this, decided to buy a few outfits in different sizes. He stuck with black clothing, knowing that Dean had said the colour looked better upon the angel than his previous tan coloured wonder of a coat.

By the time of his return, Castiel seemed to have grown a little bigger, and was now helping Bobby and Dean to find answers as to where the Leviathan could have disappeared to. Despite the fact that the angel’s body was larger now, the book still seemed to dwarf his frame, large pages spread awkwardly over his lap. He still seemed to have retained his penchant for reading however, dark brows pulled low over intense blue eyes as he read, slender hands turning the pages every so often.

Sam watched from the doorway, shoulder resting against the wooden doorframe, as Dean yawned, obviously bored with reading himself, before studiously fussing over Castiel. Bobby didn’t take any notice, yet Sam had to smile all the same. It was obvious from the way that Dean was still trying to take care of Castiel, even with all that they’d been through recently, that bridges were being built between the pair. Sam knew that he himself had to pay reparations for things he’d done to Castiel - stabbing him in the back while Castiel’s back was turned, being only one of them - and Sam wondered if Castiel even remembered that.

“Are you going to continue lurking in the doorway, Sam, or are you intending to stab someone in the back again?” Castiel observed quietly, without even looking up.

Dean and Bobby both looked askance at Castiel, then at Sam, shifting awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’m coming in,” Sam said, finally, offering no apologies for anything.

It seemed odd to him, how Castiel had picked up on the very thing that Sam had been thinking about, as though the angel perhaps had the ability to see into his mind after all. He walked in and dumped the bags of clothing at Castiel’s feet before walking from the room, professing a need for fresh air and a walk. Sam heard movement from inside the room after he’d left, and Bobby’s next order to Dean, to leave Sam be for a while.

Sam didn’t return to the house for quite some time, and no mention was made of his departure or what Castiel had said to him before he left. No apologies were made by any party, yet there was a sense of awkwardness now between them all, awkwardness that was soon forgotten by the morning and the realization that Castiel had grown by a few inches and a few years in the night again.

By the end of the week, Castiel had attained the age of at least 20, and he’d started wearing Dean’s clothing now, Sam’s being much too large for Castiel’s slender frame. By the end of the next week, he’d settled back into the age of Jimmy before the Leviathan had stripped twenty years from him, eyes burning bright with the same intensity as they had before, yet his body wasn’t held quite so stiffly or so proudly as when he was in God mode.

Both Dean and Sam kept a close eye upon him, making sure that the angel showed no predilection towards returning to his Godly state, and even Bobby kept a wary eye upon him although not quite as close a watch as the Winchester brothers. Castiel chose to stick around for a while longer, having no wish to return to Heaven for a while until his full strength returned, in case of reprisals for the angels he hadn’t yet killed.

Dean, himself, was glad for the extra pair of hands and eyes that Castiel lent them in the search for the Leviathan, who were, still, abroad in the land. He knew that they would need all the help that they could receive, especially considering that now Castiel was displaying his full quota of angel powers again.

~~ the end ~~


End file.
